


What's in a Name

by azriona



Series: Hearts [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Omega, Baby Names, M/M, Omega John, Omega Verse, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bartholomew” is an awfully large name for such a little tyke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot in the Heart ‘Verse, but could be read well enough on its own. I wrote this last year, while trying to think of what they’d call Bartholomew, when I had this conversation with myself in my head. And then I laughed myself silly, and wrote this. With love and respect to EGT, for obvious reasons.
> 
> I also thought today would be a very good day to post it, [for several](http://azriona.livejournal.com/931967.html) [reasons](http://reading221b.livejournal.com/21750.html).

“What do you want to call him?”

 

Sherlock looked up from the chair in the corner of the hospital room, where he and Emily were squished together, reading one of Emily’s books.  “I rather thought we’d call him Bartholomew, since that’s his _name_.”

 

“It’s a big name for such a little tyke, though,” said John, looking down at the day-old infant attached to his chest.  The baby seemed uncertain about the entire process of nursing; one minute, sucking away like he was going to drain John dry, and the next, stopping to take a breath, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.  At the moment, he was taking a breather, his eyes tiny slits, looking up at John, as if trying to determine whether or not he wanted to spit up the lot back at him, or go for another drink. 

 

Six pounds was heavy, after long enough holding it in the same position, and sitting up would have been uncomfortable even if the labor _hadn’t_ been so bloody long.   John shifted him to sit up a bit more, and continued speaking.  “I thought maybe we’d shorten it?”

 

“None of the rest of us have nicknames, John.  I don’t see why Bartholomew should be any different.”

 

The baby made up his mind, and continued his lunch.  John winced a little at the tug.  “I call Emily ‘Em’ sometimes.”

 

“ _You_ do,” said Sherlock.  “I do not.”

 

Emily tugged on Sherlock’s sleeve.  “What’s a nickname?”

 

“A travesty,” Sherlock told her.

 

“It’s a shortened form of your name, poppet,” said John.  “There aren’t any good shortened forms of Bartholomew, though.  Barty?”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“Mew?”

 

“He’s not a cat, John.”

 

“Ollie,” suggested Emily. 

 

Her fathers looked at her for a moment, before answering in chorus: “No.”

 

“It’ll have to be Barty, then,” sighed John.  “Until he’s old enough to handle the weight of Bartholomew.”

 

Sherlock sniffed to himself.  “We named him Bartholomew, John.  We could at least struggle through to say it to its very end.”

 

“Your papa thinks he’s funny,” John told the baby, now completely sated and full of milk, and already fast asleep.  His face was small and perfect; his nose was lightly dusted with pale freckles.  There was a bubble of milk on his lips.  

 

 _Barty_.  It almost fit him.  John lifted him up to burp him, and Emily pulled herself up to her knees to give Sherlock’s cheek a consolatory kiss.

 

 


End file.
